Sir Harry Payne looked at the stony face before him, and read fierce,
implacable determination written plainly there. He felt that his
companion was a soldier who would face death without a moment's
hesitation, and that there was not a tremor in any pulse.
He had but little time for thought, for there were salutations to make,
everything being carried out in the most cold-blooded style; after which
Sir Harry took an oblong box from the Major's servant.
"You can go now," he said.
"Not stay with my master, sir?"
"I said go, fellow," cried Sir Harry sharply; and, in spite of his
jaunty manner, he looked cold and pale.
"Back, Sir Harry?"
"No--anywhere. There, up the cliff. Be within call."
The man saluted, turned on his heel, and, walking to where a roughly-cut
path of steps led up the cliff into the little ravine, began to mount as
quickly as he could.
About half-way up he turned, saw that he was out of sight, and then,
following Fisherman Dick's steps as if he were familiar with the way,
climbed right into the rough cavern, and came suddenly upon the man, who
started round in surprise.
"Hullo!" he growled. "What are you doing here?"
"Same to you," said the young dragoon, in a low voice. "What are you
going to do?"
"See the fight, if you must know," said Fisherman Dick. "Like my place,
p'raps."
"Yes," said the young soldier quickly, "I should;" and, stepping
forward, he looked down cautiously on the group below.
"Why, it's Fred Denville, sure_ly_," cried Fisherman Dick.
"Hush, man!" said the young soldier, catching him by the arm; "James
Bell now. Not a word to a soul about me."
"What, not to your young brother, Master Fred?"
"Hist! I'm only a common soldier now, Dick. You won't betray me, I
know."
"Not I, lad. Troost me."
"I will, Dick, with my name, and--"
He placed his lips close to the fisherman's ear, and whispered.
Fisherman Dick brought a broad hand down softly on his knee, and laughed
a silent laugh. But the next moment he turned preternaturally solemn,
and whispered:
"It wouldn't be fair."
"Fair!" whispered back Fred: "is it fair for that poor fellow to stand
and be shot down by a man who can snuff a candle at a dozen paces? I've
seen him do it."
"I've done, my lad, and you're safe with me. I'm closer as you used to
know."
Meanwhile the preparations had been going on below, and were so far
advanced that the preliminaries had been all settled, the pistols
charged, the ground stepped out, and the men were standing back to back,
twelve paces apart.
Rockley was deadly pale, but not with the pallor of fear, as he stood
exactly below the hollow where the two men were looking down. There was
a savage look of rage in his eyes, and his lip was white where he
pressed his teeth upon it firmly, longing the while to receive the
weapon that was to be the minister of his vengeance upon the man he
hated with an intense and ardent hate.
The doctor had drawn aside, walking down towards the sea, and the two
seconds were together, every step in the progress of the drama being
taken with a cold formality that was awful.
At last the seconds parted, each bearing one of the loaded weapons, and
walking firmly towards his principal.
"Here you are, Rockley," said Sir Harry, in a voice that was husky, and
not quite firm. "You'll wing him, won't you, or give him a ball through
one of his legs?"
"If I can shoot straight," said Rockley coldly--"and my arm is pretty
firm this morning--there shall be a funeral in Saltinville next Sunday."
"No, no. Gad, man, don't do that. Think of yourself if you killed
him."
"I could get over it," was the reply. "The Prince would help me; and if
he wouldn't--curse that Linnell, I'd sacrifice anything to pay him back
his debt."
"Yes, you're firm enough, Dick. Mind: as Payne gives the word, raise
your pistol and fire at once. You will not hit him, but the quick flash
will spoil his aim. I will not consent to another shot. If he wants
another it shall be at me. Now then; you understand?"
"Yes," said Linnell firmly, "I understand, Mellersh. I shall not fire
at him. If I fall--badly hit--tell Claire Denville I sent her my dear
love."
"Be firm, man. You will not fall," said the Colonel, pressing his hand.
Then, glancing at Sir Harry Payne, who was waiting, he walked away
towards a certain prearranged point, where he and Sir Harry stood
together in the grey morning light; while, back to back, there were the
principals, each grasping his heavy duelling pistol, with the chalk
cliff towering above, and, fifty yards away, the waves uttering their
low, whispering sound.
Just then a couple of gulls floated by, grey and ghostly in the dull
mist, uttering their faint and peevish cry, and a few drops of rain
began to fall.
"Are you ready, gentlemen?" said Sir Harry Payne hoarsely.
No one spoke, but the principals bowed their heads.
"When I say `three,'" said Sir Harry, "you will turn round and fire.
_One_--_two_--three!"
As the last word left Sir Harry Payne's lips, the principals turned
quickly round, and almost simultaneously came two sharp echoing reports
following the faint puffs of smoke that shrouded the duellists for the
moment.
Then, as the seconds were starting forward, Mellersh saw that Rockley
was looking up at the face of the cliff. Then he looked down at Richard
Linnell, who, as the shots were fired, twisted himself sharply round,
dropping his pistol, and now stood with one hand pressed to his temple.
Mellersh saw a curious smile on Rockley's face, and a hoarse gasp came
from his throat.
"It is my fate to shoot another man--dead!" he muttered; and he was just
in time to catch Richard Linnell as he reeled and was about to fall.
The doctor was coming up quickly, and Sir Harry had run to his
principal.
"You've killed him," he whispered.
"I hope so," was the cool reply. "I'm not sure, though. That cursed
piece of chalk fell from the cliff as I fired, and spoiled my aim. Go
and see where he is hurt."
As Sir Harry ran off, Rockley stooped and picked up a piece of chalk
rock as big as his fist, and then threw it down, dusting his hand
afterwards, and then removing the mark of the chalk where it had struck
him upon his right shoulder.
"Pah!" he exclaimed, pressing his handkerchief to his lip, which was
cut; "the thing bounced up. I hope it has not saved Mr Richard
Linnell's life."
Judging from appearances it had not, for Richard Linnell lay upon the
sand with his eyes half closed, and the blood trickling from a wound
over the right temple, just where the hair began to grow.
"Is he much hurt?" whispered Sir Harry.
"Don't know yet," said the doctor sharply, as he examined the fallen
man. "Not Rockley's fault if he is not."
"He's a perfect devil," muttered Sir Harry, as, looking very white, he
gazed from one to the other, while the Major slowly walked down towards
the sea and back.
"Well?" said Colonel Mellersh, as the doctor ceased his examination.
"Had my man better be off at once?" said Sir Harry. "Give him a chance
to get away."
"If you do get him away, Sir Harry Payne, let me know where he is gone.
I may have a few words to say to Major Rockley."
"I can't tell what may supervene. There may be concussion of the
brain," said the surgeon. "Yes, he is coming to now. The bullet has
only scored his head. It was a marvellous escape."
"Blast!" muttered Major Rockley, as the news was conveyed to him.
"Here, let's be off back, I want my breakfast. Curse him, I've not done
with him yet, Payne. There are other ways to touch the heart of a
greenhorn like that, than with bullets. I'd got him dead as a hammer.
My arm felt like steel, and my shot would have had him right in the
chest if that piece of chalk had not struck me and jerked my arm. Come
along."
"Hadn't I better go and see if I can be of any help?"
"Hadn't you better go and nurse the scoundrel, and read to him a bit?
Bah! Come along, man. He has his second, and they can fetch help from
the fishermen's cottages if they want it."
Sir Harry followed him up the cliff steps and along the Down path
without a word.
"So, I shall not want a post-chaise," said Rockley, with a laugh. "No
rushing up to town and hiding for a while in chambers in St. James's, or
running over to Boulogne. Good job, too. Save the money. I'm
fearfully short. Why, man, you look white."
"Do I? It's cold. I'm glad that the affair has terminated so well."
"Terminated?" cried the Major, grasping him by the arm, "It has only
begun. I tell you there are other ways than bullets to touch a man's
heart, and I'll pierce his, curse him! so that he shall rue the day he
ever crossed my path."
Sir Harry looked at him uneasily.
"Payne," he continued, "I'm a firm friend to those who help me--and lend
me money," he added, with a laugh--"but I never forgive an insult, or a
woman's slight."
Down on the beach, Colonel Mellersh was kneeling with the great drops of
perspiration standing on his face, holding Richard Linnell's hand, while
the surgeon was looking on anxiously at the returning signs of knowledge
of his position on his patient's part.
The other principal and second had been gone some minutes when footsteps
were heard, and James Bell and Fisherman Dick came quickly down the
cliff.
"Is he much hurt, sir?" said the former, with real signs of trouble in
his face.
"No, my man: you may tell the Major that it was a narrow escape."
"Poor lad!" muttered the soldier, going down on one knee, and making
Colonel Mellersh look at him with surprise, as he took one cold hand, to
hold it between his own for a few moments.
"Can we carry him to my house, gen'lemen," said Fisherman Dick roughly.
"'Taint very far."
"No, my man, no," said the doctor; "he has only been stunned. Narrow
escape, though. He'll walk home."
"Do you mean it, sir?" cried James Bell. "Beg pardon, sir. Only glad
the Major won't have to go. I'll get back to barracks now. He'll be
wanting me."
"All right, my man. Take those confounded pistols with you. There: be
off."
The soldier placed the pistols in the case, and, saluting both
gentlemen, hurried away by the shore, while Fisherman Dick touched his
hat again, and said in a whisper:
"I've got a drop of right Nantes sperrit at my cottage, gentlemen, if
you can bring him in there."
"No, no," said the doctor. "There, he's coming round fast now," and he
pointed to Linnell's staring eyes.
The doctor was right. Half an hour later, with no worse trouble to
combat than a fierce headache, and the wound smarting under its
strapping, Richard Linnell was able to take the Colonel's arm and walk
home, a warning to other young men not to attempt to climb up the cliff
to the Downs, and risk falling and cutting their heads!
For that was the version of Richard Linnell's mishap that ran through
the town.
Volume Two, Chapter VII.